The Blackness Spreads.
Billy and Kate were holding the town's annual chili cook off. It was lunchtime, and the air in the town square was full of the perfume of fine roasted beef, onions, ripe tomatoes, paprika, chili powder, pink pepper, white pepper, vodka, merlot, jalapeno peppers, kidney beans, chili beans.
The air was filled with music:
"Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Con Con Carne Con Chili Con Carne, Ah-ha, let's make
Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili
Con Con Con Carne, Con Chili Con Carne Ah-ha that's good!
Mix the onions nice and slowly, to prevent a stomchache, crisp tortiilas on
your plate will sound so nicely when they break,
When your mouth gets full of fire, you may need something to drink, one or two or three or four or seven beers will be enough.."
Beer aplenty was drunken gaily out of wooden barrels, Budweiser had sponsored the cookofff since 1975. Shouts and whoops of joy, simmering, steaming pots with steam afloat..
How could it get any better than this? Suddenly, amdist the gaily waltzing symphony of music, spices and madness, a fart was heard, pratically in Billy's ear..
"Blast it, Malaiko, if you do that again!"
Malaiko Sum Dow was an immigrant from Thailand. Known for beating up anyone virtuous he ever came across in town, he was urine and methane, stickiness and hairiness, booze.
No one knew why. He ran away before Billy could catch him, laughing. "Never
mind him" Kate giggled. "He won't bother us on occaisions like this."
Billy, however, saw something with his spirit..the future? A forewarning? All he saw was the city in the film The Ten Commandments.in all its immoral, wanton, lusty glory, yet much more graphic and uncensored by the film world. Yet not specific beings.were they even human in the slightest sense? Images of the actions. Lustful wantonness, hedonistic drunkenness on brandy, wine, champagne, feasting on pomgranates, mangos, and cashews...incest, sexual immorality, violence, looting, piracy. and in the distance... A roar of a large.... reptillion... Mogwai..
He tried to shake it off.
When **did** one feed a mogwai again, when the post-midnight hours were long gone? When the sun rose, perhaps? At the first sign of the sun? A question unknown for the longest time...a question long unanswered...
Chinatown. The mogwai was still sitting.he dared not remember his dream. Suddenly, several drk figures entered the store.the mogwai peered out of
the darkness.
"Hello?" said the old man?
Shotgun blasts boomed through, crowbars smashing vulnerable finery to pieces.
"Give us the mogwai, pal."
"No! No! What is mogwai?"
"Give us the freakin' mogwai!"
"No!"
The mogwai had witnessed it all. "Mogwai! Mogwai! Mogwai!"
"Give us the mogwai, pal, or we'll blow your balls off!"
"I do not know meaning of word 'mogwai'!"
A shotgun blast.
"Mogwai! Mogwai! Mogwai!"
It was too late. In all his fright, his sound had located him.
Before he knew it, he was in a black sack in the trunk of what sounded like a '66 Stingray.Gizmo knew about these kinds of things from who entered the shop day in and day out. '66 Stingray, copper color, 50 horse power engine, double pipes, racing mags, whitewall slicks.
About five men, from the way it sounded.
"He'll be a good sale. He's in demand in the underworld."
"He's in demand everywhere, ever since that Christmas thing in that sorry- ass small town."
"Man, when the greenies tore it up."
"I don't want to be responsible as the guy who unleashed greenies again, those things kill kids, man! If this thing goes to some moron who splashes stuff on it, feeds it after midnight."
"Who cares? So long as we got the twenty kilos of cocaine and are living in Tahiti, I could not possibly care less if freakin' Minnesota's leveled to the ground!"
Gizmo knew what was going on. They were going to sell him for cocaine.
Billy and Kate were holding the town's annual chili cook off. It was lunchtime, and the air in the town square was full of the perfume of fine roasted beef, onions, ripe tomatoes, paprika, chili powder, pink pepper, white pepper, vodka, merlot, jalapeno peppers, kidney beans, chili beans.
The air was filled with music:
"Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Con Con Carne Con Chili Con Carne, Ah-ha, let's make
Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili
Con Con Con Carne, Con Chili Con Carne Ah-ha that's good!
Mix the onions nice and slowly, to prevent a stomchache, crisp tortiilas on
your plate will sound so nicely when they break,
When your mouth gets full of fire, you may need something to drink, one or two or three or four or seven beers will be enough.."
Beer aplenty was drunken gaily out of wooden barrels, Budweiser had sponsored the cookofff since 1975. Shouts and whoops of joy, simmering, steaming pots with steam afloat..
How could it get any better than this? Suddenly, amdist the gaily waltzing symphony of music, spices and madness, a fart was heard, pratically in Billy's ear..
"Blast it, Malaiko, if you do that again!"
Malaiko Sum Dow was an immigrant from Thailand. Known for beating up anyone virtuous he ever came across in town, he was urine and methane, stickiness and hairiness, booze.
No one knew why. He ran away before Billy could catch him, laughing. "Never
mind him" Kate giggled. "He won't bother us on occaisions like this."
Billy, however, saw something with his spirit..the future? A forewarning? All he saw was the city in the film The Ten Commandments.in all its immoral, wanton, lusty glory, yet much more graphic and uncensored by the film world. Yet not specific beings.were they even human in the slightest sense? Images of the actions. Lustful wantonness, hedonistic drunkenness on brandy, wine, champagne, feasting on pomgranates, mangos, and cashews...incest, sexual immorality, violence, looting, piracy. and in the distance... A roar of a large.... reptillion... Mogwai..
He tried to shake it off.
When **did** one feed a mogwai again, when the post-midnight hours were long gone? When the sun rose, perhaps? At the first sign of the sun? A question unknown for the longest time...a question long unanswered...
Chinatown. The mogwai was still sitting.he dared not remember his dream. Suddenly, several drk figures entered the store.the mogwai peered out of
the darkness.
"Hello?" said the old man?
Shotgun blasts boomed through, crowbars smashing vulnerable finery to pieces.
"Give us the mogwai, pal."
"No! No! What is mogwai?"
"Give us the freakin' mogwai!"
"No!"
The mogwai had witnessed it all. "Mogwai! Mogwai! Mogwai!"
"Give us the mogwai, pal, or we'll blow your balls off!"
"I do not know meaning of word 'mogwai'!"
A shotgun blast.
"Mogwai! Mogwai! Mogwai!"
It was too late. In all his fright, his sound had located him.
Before he knew it, he was in a black sack in the trunk of what sounded like a '66 Stingray.Gizmo knew about these kinds of things from who entered the shop day in and day out. '66 Stingray, copper color, 50 horse power engine, double pipes, racing mags, whitewall slicks.
About five men, from the way it sounded.
"He'll be a good sale. He's in demand in the underworld."
"He's in demand everywhere, ever since that Christmas thing in that sorry- ass small town."
"Man, when the greenies tore it up."
"I don't want to be responsible as the guy who unleashed greenies again, those things kill kids, man! If this thing goes to some moron who splashes stuff on it, feeds it after midnight."
"Who cares? So long as we got the twenty kilos of cocaine and are living in Tahiti, I could not possibly care less if freakin' Minnesota's leveled to the ground!"
Gizmo knew what was going on. They were going to sell him for cocaine.